Welcome to Wonderland
by kweenofalldreams13
Summary: Arthur's party would be nothing without his best friend Merlin.  Of course, he didn't expect anyone to spike Merlin's drink, but what would a party be without a little debauchery?  Rated for drug use and sexual references.  AU Slight Merthur


**Author's Note:** A quick drabble sort of thing that came to me out of nowhere, of course. I don't own anything that you recognize, of course. Lyrics to "I Am the Walrus" belong to Lennon-McCartney. Merlin belongs to BBC. Warning: slight Merthur tendencies, but it will leave enough to the imagination.

* * *

><p><strong>Welcome to Wonderland<strong>

The walls seemed to ooze and pulsate toward him, while they dripped down every color of the rainbow, and Merlin's legs nearly gave out from underneath him. He was Hare Krishna, only he had a million arms reaching toward the ceiling and gyrating back into place. Merlin didn't know what had happened to him, only that after the first two drinks the hair on the back of Morgana's head was suddenly very fuzzy, and had more than one long-legged creature reaching out toward him, almost asking him to help them, before sinking back down and squealing with resignation. He'd tried to help them, he really had, but once they had submerged back into her hair, they were gone forever. And then the birds, he started hearing the birds, and they were behind them, but then they weren't, and then they disappeared too, and he didn't quite know why. But now he was lying with his back against the floor at Arthur's house, or what used to be Arthur's house, before the roof grew wings and flew away, for him to stare dreamily at all of the exploding balls of gas in the dark midnight sky.

"I am he is you are he is you are me and we are all together," sang Merlin softly, rocking a little from side to side. Gwen, passing by, stumbled over his leg and frowned, setting down her red Solo cup on the nearest end table she could find.

"Merlin?" she asked, kneeling down beside him. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Gwen!" he sing-songed, sitting up abruptly. She needed help too, because her eyes were slowly starting to melt out of her head, and the angels inside them were frightening, their wings splayed out and their clawed hands reaching toward him, calling him closer. "Gwen, don't blink! Whatever you do, don't blink!" She rolled her eyes and pulled him up to his feet, letting him lean on her for support.

"Merlin, I think you've been watching just a _little_ too much Doctor Who." She looked around, seeking out her boyfriend, who was much stronger than her and therefore would be better able to handle this oddly excitable Merlin a _bit_ better. Then, she stopped in her tracks. He wasn't like any old drunk person she'd seen, least of all at Arthur's parties. "Merlin, are you high?"

"High? High as the sky, and the birds in between and...and are you Alice?" he broke in abruptly, tilting his head to the side curiously, like a little child yet again. When Gwen simply rolled her eyes and shook her head, Merlin giggled loudly and clapped his hands, before they curled into springy strands of spaghetti. "Alice, we're late! We must go down the rabbit hole and meet the White Rabbit, or he will most _certainly_ be late for our very important date! And we _cannot_ be late for our very important date, Gwenny, dear!" Gwen rolled her eyes once more, but dragged Merlin through the chaos, attaining about three beer stains on her new turquoise tank top. Merlin, on the other hand, was battling dragons that swooped overhead, their snouts growing long and grotesque, their eyeballs popping out of their heads and turning into grapefruits before his eyes. His magic wasn't working–_why wasn't it working?_–when the mama dragon of them all stood before them, arms crossed over her big dragon mama chest.

"_Mer_lin, what the hell are you doing?" he growled, and Gwen took a step back. He picked up Merlin by the back of his collar, and forced him on his feet to face him.

"I think he's had his drink spiked, Arthur," said Gwen, running a hand through her hair. "He's been acting completely high since I found him on the floor muttering nonsense to himself." To punctuate her statement, with excellent timing, Gwen thought, Merlin squealed like a hog and started batting the air around Arthur's head, as if there were enormous flies flapping around and buzzing and lighting up and existing, because they weren't supposed to, and to the others, they didn't, but Merlin saw them. Merlin knew. Merlin was all-seeing now, he was the wizard, the all-seeing wizard. And though these poor, defenseless mortals didn't know the creatures that were invading their land, he had to protect them. He had to keep them safe, if it was the last thing he did. Poor peasants.

"MERlin," emphasized Arthur, punching him on the shoulder, undoubtedly leaving a bruise, and shook him violently. "Will you bloody sober up?" Merlin let loose a high squeal, and covered his head. It was raining citric acid, and the oranges, they were crying. Hysterical, they were, ballistic almost. And their eyes, their eyes so huge and red and menacing, they started to spin and spiral and weave and suddenly Merlin was the lost wizard, but he had to save Arthur, just had to save him, if it was the last thing he did. So he tackled Arthur to the ground, which was surprising, seeing as he was so much lighter, but he'd caught him off-guard. And now Arthur was aggravated.

"Down, my liege!"

"What the _devil_ do you think you're _doing_, Merlin?" said Arthur, starting to sit up, before he realized that the gentle nudge on the end of his hip wasn't Merlin's hand. "MERLIN. Is acid an aphro_disiac_ as well now?" he exclaimed. Merlin pressed a finger to his lips.

"My liege, it is a wizard's duty to protect his kingship, no matter how dangerous the task." A young woman, one of Arthur's friends, passed by with a strange look at the boys. She started to smirk, and within an instant, the short skirt that fluttered around her thighs had whisked away a wordless goodbye, and she proceeded out to the center of the action, taking a cup of beer from one of Arthur's jock friends, Gwaine, probably, and downing it and dancing with _him_ instead of Arthur. Bloody Merlin had to go and ruin everything, didn't he?

"Get off me." He pushed off the smaller boy, knocking him to his bum on the hardwood floor. "_Mer_lin! Look what you've done. You've gone and ruined my new _shirt_!" Indeed there was a beer stain identical to Gwen's on Arthur's collar, and another spotting across his breast pocket, and another on his stomach. He quickly unbuttoned it, leaving him in jeans far too tight to be healthy. Meanwhile, Merlin had taken on a position honoring Edvard Munch's _The Scream_, his fingers crawling up his head like thin peach spiders, and burrowing through his hair into his skull, peeling away the layers of old skin to reveal the new, magical him. "Merlin! Stop it!" shouted Arthur while his small friend, apparently delusional, tried to rip his skin clean off the bone. He tackled him to the ground, pulling his hands away and pinning his wrists against the cold hardwood. "Christ, Merlin, what on Earth did you take? You've gone mad."

"My king!" he replied, struggling against Arthur's holds. "Please, Arthur, please. I'm only trying to save you. The dragons, they're coming. They're going to come after you, they're going to _kill_ you if you don't let me speak to them! I can save you!"

Frustrated, Arthur leaned down into Merlin's face, letting his hot breath splash against Merlin's delicate cheeks. He waited for his pants to reduce, to calm, and his grip slackened on Merlin's arms.

"Merlin."

"Yes, Arthur?" he breathed.

"Look at me." And so he looked deep into the thicker man's swirling blue eyes, drowning in the seas that engulfed him, hurricanes, seagulls flitting around his head frantically. "Focus, Merlin," he muttered, sliding his hands to the floor in the push-up position above his friend. "Can you see me? I'm just the way I've always been, and it's just you and me. No dragons, no kings, no wizards, nothing. Just me and my best friend. Here. At the party of a lifetime. You see the blades on the ceiling fan? Are they moving?" He nodded slowly. "Now watch just the one, there, with the spot on the end. Are they moving now?" This time, he shook his head slowly, dropping his head down onto the floor, the hitch in his lungs slowing gradually.

"Arthur."

"Yes, Merlin?" He pushed himself up, sitting down beside his friend as Merlin sat up as well, pulling his knees to his chest.

"I think someone spiked my drink."


End file.
